"The truth is told by whoever is left standing."

-Tom Zarek

Near Future
Smithsonian Institute

The object taunted her with its mysteries; it called to her to unlock its secrets. No one else believed her reports, her superiors just laughed at her papers on the subject, but to her the data spoke volumes. In the end, she had not suspected the object was anything special, she knew it. Like one knew the sky was blue or the ocean tide would ebb and flow, Laura knew the worn, broken wings were more important than anything in this great museum. Behind the scientist, on a small cot, her daughter stirred, but did not wake, caught in a fitful dream.

The radio switched tunes, the night DJ's eclectic tastes reserved for those hours where few were listening. Laura knew the words, of course, like the antiquities housed in this place, she appreciated the classics.

"All along the watchtower…Princes kept the view…" The song's lyrics echoed across the examination room, filling it with soft comforting sound. Her final tests were finished. As a scientist, her first goal had been to try and disprove her instinct, but every test she ran only confirmed the results. 150,000 years had passed since the tiny relic had been cast. Of that, she was certain. But even then, the results surprised her. It was bronze, but the composition was slightly different, perhaps more optimal for preservation than the modern variants. It was puzzling; perhaps the society which had created the object was even more advanced than the modern one.

"Who's there? John?"

Suddenly she had the very real sensation that someone was watching her, but the mischievous security guard did not show himself. No response came from the empty hallways of the museum either. As she relaxed, the song faded out, leaving only the radio DJ's voice to echo across the room.

"I've always enjoyed that song, it's really deep, isn't it? Now for a song you should all remember by…" The voice droned on, but Laura was no longer listening. Her mind began to wander again, imagining the world 150,000 years ago, a world more similar to her own than that imagination could grasp. Laura's daughter woke up from the small cot on the other end of the room and yawned slightly, her eyes fixating on the object of her mother's curiosity.

"You okay, sweetie?" Laura asked, her thoughts turning to one of guilt. Sometimes her dedication to her work made life hard for her five-year-old daughter.

"Yea. I just had a funny dream."

"What about?"

"The Sky People." She said, pointing to the broken wings.

1300 BC
Ithaca, Modern Day Greece

The memory was burned into the minds of all who saw it, even though few understood what had happened. All who witnessed the coming of the Gods, for none questioned who the great creatures the sky were, understood the event as the fulfillment of a supreme yearning. Though the memories of the past had long ago become mere mythology, half-remembered truths, those stories left something behind in their passing.

A part of these men wanted to return to the stars, a part of them yearned for something greater than the monotony of farming and petty warlords. They remembered, after a fashion, their ancient glories and terrible mistakes. This version of man was always gazing upward, possessing with an ambition and drive that was exceptional even when compared to Colonial history. They were always seeking to return to the place they came from, and some part of them realized that they belonged up there, where the machine-men had descended from.

"I remember everything." Zoe began, her delicate hand reaching for Friend's metal joints. After a mere moment of hesitation, the space of a single human breath, Friend responded, gently clasping her hand.

Even Zoe, with all of her knowledge of the past, was unprepared for what happened next. She felt the sensation of falling, of descending through the ocean of time until she once again walked the hallowed halls of Galactica. Time passed rapidly, the years of the great journey passing before her. Friend was there with her, the red eye examining her without any hint of malice. Behind him, in rapid motion, men and women passed, like images in an old tape recorder, fast-forwarding through time in a blur. It was the first time since the projection had been passed to her that she had shared it with another, but even then, it was never like this.

"You can project now. You have grown." She began in her mind as the blurs of motion continued around her.

"It took a long time to learn. The physical interface was easy, but there was always something missing. We learned eventually." Friend replied, walking into CIC, the consoles and lights blinking rapidly, men and women bustling about too fast to catch, the engines thrumming with activity.

"This is the first time I have seen it like this." Friend continued, as if in a dream.

"Is this why you found me?" Zoe asked.

"Yes. We knew of the exodus, but we did not carry this with us. It is so different this way." Friend answered. "It is more real."

"How did you find me? I must be the last, or one of the last, who carries this ability."

"We are… as you. We are…" Friend paused without speaking the last word, letting it hover of its own accord.

"You are Cylons. That is enough."

"We are not Cylons."

The rapid motion about them paused, leaving William Adama bent upwards, staring at the DRADIS console, Saul Tigh next to him, resolute in defiance, his mouth agape in mid-order. The old drunkard had an air about him, a firm demonstration of absolute loyalty.

"You are Cylons. So is this Colonel Tigh. So am I, though only in part. I know why you hate the word, but just like the humans, there is good and evil in us. Is that the face of an 'evil' Cylon?" Zoe answered firmly, her voice resolute. The red eye regarded her for several seconds before replying, the motion around them resuming again.

"This is what I came here to know. We wanted to see for ourselves what our ancestors had done, even if it was a great evil." Friend replied. "Once I stood on the deck of our basestar as your kind left us, and I thought I knew friend from enemy then. I knew little."

"What will you do when you finish downloading this?" Zoe asked, the stream pausing again. They were in the hanger deck, watching Peter Laird and Galen Tyrol in mid-argument with Kara Thrace laughing behind them. Kara somehow seemed aloof, distant, as if she didn't belong in this place and time. Galen's anger was evident, his legendary temper still held in check as Peter Laird made every gesture of submission he could. Next to them, a Six regarded them with what could only be described as profound amusement. Friend gestured to Tyrol as he answered.

"We want to watch mankind. Eventually they will ascend to the stars again. When they do, we must warn them. Man and… Cylon are alive. Better that we are friends. We prefer this state of things."

"Man must see their machines as life. They must love them as Adama loved his ship." Zoe answered as the images shifted again in rapid succession, leaving them in Adama's quarters, Athena standing before him, holding a mission report as the Admiral regarded her with a look of compassion. A bottle remained on his desk, half-empty.

More images flew by as Zoe became rapidly disoriented. She saw battle after battle, great conflicts stretching out in rapid-fire. The Colony was surrounded by fighting Raiders, Vipers were leaking fuel into the emptiness of space as they filled it with bullets, the great battlestar herself was creating a flak field full of bright, deadly blossoms.

Finally the visions slowed, and stopped, leaving the mortally wounded Galactica to disappear into the sun. Fragments of the past flashed by, brief images of the Atlantis, the city of knowledge being built and destroyed many times until nothing remained except for her. Reality seemed to swirl about her in a dance of light.

They stood in front of the temple again, Odysseus at her side, as Friend withdrew his hand.

"Come with us." The ancient Centurion began. "We have a plan."

150,000 BC
Somewhere in Africa

Caprica lay on her deathbed, contemplating her next journey into the hands of God. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she really believed, but then she remembered the angels, the mystical figures that had appeared in her conscious thought. Would she see them again? Would she see Gaius? Would she see anything?

The Six had almost forgotten she wasn't human, except for these moments when her mind seemed to report things to her, informing her that she didn't have much time left. Strange that she should be created as a machine, live as a human and then die, once again, as a machine. Lee Adama stood over her, the weathered, wrinkled face staring down with a measure of compassion mixed with deep-seated respect. That he could do this, knowing full well what she had done in the war, gave her a feeling of sorrow. She could never repair the crimes she had committed, but she hoped she had earned a measure of penance anyway.

"Dee, will you come here?" It had actually been Gaius's idea to name their daughter after the fallen Colonial. It was a gesture Lee had appreciated, and the name was certainly unique. It had done much to heal the bad blood which had crept between the scientist and the former pilot over the years.

Though she had long ago shared her memory of the exodus with Dee, Caprica joined with her again. She didn't do it to be reminded of the past so much as to show her daughter what she had once been like. Caprica stood in a long red dress, her youthful features still with her in this world as she walked down the corridors with her daughter.

"Your will have to carry this with you. I'm sorry I gave you this, but someone has to remember for these people." Caprica stated simply.

"We'll remember, Mom." Dee stated simply. "God will help us."

"You listened to your father too much." Caprica teased. It was an old joke, sometimes Gaius could get a little loopy, and some of the religious sayings he spouted were more amusing than insightful. It was something her family had learned to laugh at. The walls she had built around herself came down in this place, she could be herself, she could even smile and joke a little. It was this final realization that convinced her that though she may have lived and acted much like a human, she was, in the end, a Cylon. Only in the machine-world was she truly free. The thought was liberating, and it struck her with a feeling of completeness.

With that thought lingering in her mind she felt the world begin to slip away, the halls of Galactica merging into Lee Adama's face, standing over her. The lights and the thrumming slipped away, leaving only the feeling of her daughter's hand in hers. She lost focus as she felt the world lift away, one layer at a time. All was white. All was black.

A single tear splashed on her hand.